#philadelphia trade school

[pttedu]

Can You Earn A High Income In Skilled Trade Jobs Without A College Diploma?

Skilled trade jobs are in high demand. Learn how one can train for the highest paying trade jobs and kickstart their career in the trades industry.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Jun 25, 2024

The impact of the riots at the Stonewall Inn in June 1969 has often been overblown. Those few summer days when the beleaguered gay community fought back against the police on the streets of New York City are rightly considered a milestone in the struggle for equal rights in the West. But endless arguments about ‘who threw the first brick?’ have obscured the truth that gay equality was achieved by the activists who persisted in the aftermath, harnessing that energy and changing the world forever.

Perhaps a more important milestone was the march organised by a handful of campaigners a year after Stonewall. Craig Rodwell’s idea had been to make this a yearly commemoration that would supersede the ‘Annual Reminder’ picket events that he had been holding every Independence Day in Philadelphia since 1965. It would be known as the ‘Christopher Street Liberation Day’ – later retrospectively rebranded as the first New York ‘Pride’ march – and it was orchestrated chiefly by Rodwell, Fred Sargeant, Linda Rhodes and Ellen Broidy.

The march took place on 28 June 1970, and it was an audacious display. Police hostility to gay people was rife, the local media were overwhelmingly unsympathetic and there were fears of violent repercussions from observers. The day passed off peacefully, perhaps because of a general sense of astonishment that thousands of gay people would assemble so openly. A reporter for the Village Voice wrote that ‘no one could quite believe it, eyes rolled back in heads, Sunday tourists traded incredulous looks, wondrous faces poked out of air-conditioned cars’. At the head of the march, Fred Sargeant carried a bullhorn and called out instructions to the marchers as they made their way from the West Village to Central Park.

Fifty-four years later, and Pride has transformed from an important act of resistance into a month-long orgy of corporatism and virtue-signalling, full of heterosexuals desperate to identify themselves into an oppressed group with the help of trans ideology. ‘Progress Pride’ flags flutter from every high-street store. This relatively new design – a kaleidoscopic eyesore that has replaced the traditional six-stripe Pride flag – is emblazoned on schools, universities, hospitals, civic buildings. In the city of Arlington in Texas, this year’s family friendly Pride event included displays of dildos, half-naked drag queens and human dogs in bondage gear, all co-spon.sored by Lockheed Martin, the world’s largest producer of armaments. In London, numerous pedestrian crossings have been repainted with the ‘Progress Pride’ motif. Police horses find walking across the coloured stripes confusing and disturbing, so the animals have undergone special training to overcome their fears. After all, it is essential to address the rampant homophobia within the equine community.

What might the thousands who turned out on that summer day in New York in 1970 make of this distorted version of Pride? Those gay men and lesbians who risked social ostracism and physical violence to gather in public have little in common with this garish and unsettling facsimile. A poll from 2021 determined that almost 40 per cent of Americans between the ages of 18 and 24 now identify as LGBTQ. Given the vast majority identifying as such do so as ‘trans’, ‘nonbinary’ and ‘queer’, this means it is statistically certain that gay people are now the minority in this coalition. The early pioneers of gay rights didn’t risk so much for their movement to be usurped by fetishistic heterosexuals with a martyr complex.

It would be interesting to see polling data on how many gay people support Pride in its new ‘trans-inclusive’ incarnation. One recent poll on X asked a simple question: ‘Do you want Pride anymore?’ And although 93.5 per cent of respondents replied in the negative, social-media polls are notoriously useless and we would be unwise to draw any conclusions from them. Still, it is surely significant that this poll was reposted by Fred Sargeant, and that his answer was a resounding ‘No’. That the man who led the first Pride march, bullhorn in hand, should now reject the annual event that he co-created because of its embrace of gender ideology is far from trivial. Nor is it trivial that while handing out pamphlets critical of the trans movement at a Pride event in Vermont in 2022, Sargeant was physically attacked by trans activists.

[ A parade through New York City on Christopher Street Gay Liberation Day, 1971. ]

He is not alone. Many gay people have expressed dismay at the metamorphosis of Pride and feel that it no longer represents them. This can be confusing for those who have not been paying attention to its ongoing political evolution, but there is a very good reason why groups of gay men and lesbians are now holding alternative Pride rallies this year. In August 2022, police insisted that lesbians leave a Pride parade because their banners, proclaiming that ‘lesbians don’t like penises’ and ‘trans activism erases lesbians’, were causing consternation. When gay people are being escorted away from Pride marches by the police, we can safely say that the movement has fallen.

Some might argue that the LGBTQIA+ explosion is an example of what happens when liberalism goes unchecked, that it is the natural consequence of an excess of tolerance and the rise of identity politics. Yet while identity politics in its current intersectional form has proven to be deeply illiberal and regressive, there have been sound reasons throughout history for people with shared characteristics to organise and resist. Unlike the various campaigns for imaginary victimhood that dominate today’s ‘social justice’ causes, being openly gay in the 1970s came at a huge cost. At the time of the first Pride parade, every state in the US with the exception of Illinois criminalised gay sex. In services and employment, discrimination against gay people was permitted, and even most progressives assumed that homosexuality was a mental illness. This is a world away from the exaggerated or fabricated grievances of the diversity, equity and inclusion industry today.

Now that gay people have complete equal rights under the law, the protest element of Pride has been appropriated by those with an apparent craving for oppression. Asexual activists, for instance, have taken centre stage at certain Pride events, even though nobody in the history of humankind has ever been burned at the stake for not wanting to have sex. It isn’t the case that those who identify as asexual are facing discrimination; it’s that nobody cares about what they don’t get up to in the bedroom. But of course, for those of a narcissistic temperament, there can be nothing more devastating than being ignored.

[ Furries march on Congress Street during the annual Pride Portland parade, 2017. ]

Many of those who call themselves ‘nonbinary’ are similarly vocal, but there is no serious comparison to be made between the historical persecution of homosexuals and experiencing some pushback when you demand that others refer to you as ‘they’ or ‘them’. Coming out as gay in 1970 increased the risk of being violently assaulted; coming out as ‘nonbinary’ today only increases one’s chances of being employed at the BBC.

Of course, all of this must be symptomatic of the developing cult of victimhood in the Western world. Ironically, there is now power in being the victim. Those who claim to be ‘marginalised’ are able to get people fired, drive them from public life, and harass and bully them in the name of ‘progress’. Who would have thought there was so much clout in being oppressed?

Far from being a collective gesture of unity, Pride is now widely interpreted as a celebration of homophobia. This is because it has become infected with gender ideology, which seeks to eliminate gay people from their own history. Although trans-identified individuals were rarely seen at activist meetings and events in the early decades of the gay movement, revisionists are now insisting that gay people owe their rights to the hard work of trans campaigners. We are told that a black trans woman, Marsha P Johnson, was the key figure at the Stonewall riots. This is wrong on many counts. The riots were overwhelmingly dominated by young gay men. Although Johnson took part in the demonstrations, he wasn’t present when the rioting began. Most significantly, by his own admission, he was a transvestite who didn’t identify as female.

Fred Sargeant has been much vilified for exposing the truth of what took place in these early years of the gay rights’ movement, and he is now a thorn in the side of activists whose worldview depends on a narrative that runs contrary to the truth. Recently he posted a link to the Digital Transgender Archive on the Third International Conference on Transgender Law and Employment Policy, which explicitly outlines how gay and trans movements in the 20th century were completely separate. The conflation of the LGB and T is an invention as recent as 2015. As the document explains, while the gay-rights movement in the US began in the 1920s, ‘the existence of a transgendered community that seeks reforms did not come into existence until the 1990s’.

The historical revisionism doesn’t end at Stonewall. Activists have attempted to claim that certain gay historical figures were mistaking their true trans identity for homosexuality. Just as Mormon priests have been known to baptise the dead and thereby convert them unwillingly to their cause, trans activists have been busy harvesting the annals of history for potential recruits. Those falsely claimed as trans include George Eliot, Dr James Barry, Radclyffe Hall and Joan of Arc. People who were gay and gender nonconforming are particularly vulnerable to this kind of retrospective ‘transing’. It’s very convenient for activists that the dead can’t complain.

While many trans campaigners consider themselves supportive of gay rights, overt homophobia is nonetheless often tolerated and encouraged within their circles. There are innumerable examples online of trans activists claiming that homosexuality is a form of transphobia and that only bigots have ‘genital preferences’. ‘If you’re a cis gay man’, writes one, ‘and your sexuality revolves around you not liking female genitalia I hope you die and I will spit on your grave’. A video recently went viral featuring an activist explaining to gay men why they should transition to female and that ‘maybe being gay is an outdated concept’. An online influencer called Davey Wavey uploaded his attempt at gay conversion therapy in a video entitled ‘How To Eat Pussy – For Gay Men’. One can imagine it being shown to young men at an evangelical Christian retreat for those who wish to find a ‘cure’ for their immoral urges.

This isn’t simply a case of a handful of lunatics on the fringe – this idea has also been normalised in mainstream gay culture. Australia’s Human Rights Commission prohibits lesbians from holding female-only events on the grounds that it discriminates against men who identify as female. Sall Grover, the founder of women’s app Giggle, is currently in a legal battle in Australia because she refused to allow a man to join. Stonewall has even redefined ‘homosexuality’ on its website as ‘same-gender attracted’. Its former CEO, Nancy Kelley, once suggested that women who don’t wish to date trans people are ‘sexual racists’. No, Nancy, they’re just gay.

We have seen all this before. In the 1980s, it was a common trope for gay men to be told that they ‘just haven’t found the right girl yet’ and to suggest to lesbians that they ‘just need the right dick’. The rights of homosexuals depend upon a recognition that a minority of people are attracted to their own sex. Once sex is eliminated from the equation, gay rights are no longer tenable.

The most obvious example of how gay rights have been threatened by trans ideology is that young gay people are disproportionately at risk of surgical ‘correction’. Given that between 80 and 90 per cent of adolescents referred to the NHS Tavistock Clinic were orientated towards their own sex, it is clear that in many cases homosexuality was being treated as gender dysphoria. I am usually mistrustful of accusations of various ‘phobias’ which can be used as a rhetorical technique to discourage disagreement. But if medicalising people for being same-sex attracted doesn’t qualify as homophobic, I’m not sure that anything does.

And so Pride and its accoutrements have come to represent an ideology that seeks not only to erase the foundations of gay rights, but also to re-conceptualise same-sex attraction as a condition that requires medical treatment. When police officers decorate their cars with the Pride colours, when NHS workers display the rainbow lanyard, when schools decorate their halls with bunting in solidarity, they are almost certainly doing so with the noble intention of promoting equal rights. But they are inadvertently promoting a movement whose end goal is the eradication of homosexuality.

This is not to deny that the ‘Progress Pride’ flag and all it represents have been embraced by many gay people. It is clearly the case that a majority have not realised the extent to which the flag has been hijacked for a cause that actively works against their interests. The situation has hardly been helped by prominent celebrities, often now referred to as ‘Vichy gays’, who have cheered on this sinister development. Homosexuals are not immune to the condition of useful idiocy.

Given that Pride has become so divisive, and given that so many lesbians, bisexuals and gay men now consider it to be an essentially hostile enterprise, it would be prudent for corporations and government bodies to stop pretending that there is a consensus on this issue. Ignorance is no longer an excuse. By flying the ‘Progress Pride’ flag, they are taking a side in a highly contentious cultural debate, one that alienates as many gay people as it attracts. Those who are serious about gay rights need to distance themselves from Pride once and for all.

==

When the demand for 'oppression' outstrips the supply.

Time to resist again.

[scotianostra]

On July 6th 1747 Scottish naval figure, John Paul Jones, was born.

Might as well start the day off with a biggie, John Paul was a massive figure in the 18th century and persistant pain in the arse to the British, it's rather a long post, but I hope you learn how this guy was hailed as a hero or villain by many, read on ...................

Born in Kirkbean, where his father was the head gardener of the Arbigland Estate. John was born as “John Paul” but would add Jones later in his life. He was born the fourth child of seven and one of only five of such made it to adulthood. John Paul Jones isremembered in history as a naval hero to some and a pirate to others.

John had an education, being sent to Kirkbean School. However, he spent much of his time off at the nearby port of Carsethorn. Whenever he could he ran down to the port where he would talk to sailors and clamber all over the ships; it was clear that the sea was calling John.

At the age of just thirteen he signed on and began an apprenticeship for John Younger, a Scottish merchant shipper. His first voyage as a ship’s boy took him to the Americas, sailing to Barbados and then to Virginia where he stayed with his older brother William who had emigrated there and strived as a tailor.

After returning to the to Britain, John Paul had found that John Younger’s business was failing, and he was released from his apprenticeship. Now seventeen, he entered the slave trade. Within two years he transferred as first mate to the ship Two Friends of Kingston, Jamaica in 1766. The ship was only fifty feet long and after several voyages to and from Africa, John quit the slave trade in disgust calling it an “abominable trade” and booked passage back to Scotland. During the voyage, both the captain and first mate died of fever; John Paul was the only man on the ship qualified to bring the ship, named John, home safely. The owners of the ship were so pleased that they appointed him master and supercargo of the ship, the latter being an officer on a merchant ship in charge of the commercial concerns of the voyage.

Now at the age of twenty-one, John Paul Jones had become a captain. He adopted the manner of a young gentleman who was always neatly dressed and had an eye for the ladies but it's said he came with a violent temper. While captaining the John he was accused by the ships carpenter of excessive flogging. The carpenter was examined, and his complaint was dismissed. While returning the Scotland, that same carpenter died of Yellow Fever and John Paul was arrested and charged with murder. Evidence and a declaration from the master of the Barcelona Packet was sufficient to acquit John. The story will dog his entire life.

In the years prior to the American Revolution, John Paul took command of the Betsy in the fall of 1772. Trading back and forth between England and the West Indies, he accumulated a considerable sum. The flourishment all came to a halt when in 1773 John killed the ringleader of a mutiny with his sword aboard his ship in a dispute over wages. The man was a local of the West Indies, feeling was against John and to evade trial, he fled to Virginia. Here, he changed his named to John Paul Jones.

While in Virginia, Jones’ sympathies were with the colonists and the rebel cause. When Congress formed the Continental Navy, Jones rushed to Philadelphia to offer his services and was commissioned as first lieutenant in December 1775. At the time the Continental Navy consisted of a handful of ships; Jones was lieutenant of the Alfred and then later captain of the Providence. His exploits took him to the West Indies, where he distinguished himself against the British ship Glasgow. In 1776 he switched commands between Alfred and Providence as he operated in the Atlantic Ocean. He captured eight "prizes", sunk and burnt another eight, and towed to port several prizes to end the year.

In June 1777, Jones was appointed to the newly built Ranger. Sailing to the British Isles, he took several prizes before arriving in Brest, France in May 1778 where he was hailed as a hero. Operating out of Brest, Jones led a cruise to the Irish Sea capturing or destroying small vessels. This cruise made Jones a feared household name in Britain.

Returning to Brest once again, Jones was given command of the Duc de Duras, which he had converted to a warship. He renamed her the Bonhomme Richard in honor of Benjamin Franklin. In August 1779 he set sail for Britain again with a squadron of seven ships, raiding commerce around Scotland and Ireland for the better part of the month.

On September 23rd, Jones engaged a merchant fleet which consisted of the HMS Serapis and Countess of Scarborough. Jones was outgunned by the Serapis but thanks to his brilliant maneuvering, he lashed the Bonhomme Richard on to the enemy ship where a battle ensued for three and a half hours. When the enemy captain asked Jones if he would like to surrender, he promptly replied “I have not yet begun to fight!” Jones and his crew were victorious, but Bonhomme Richard began to sink. Jones transferred his remaining crew to the surrendered Serapis and Scarborough and sailed for the Netherlands.

Later he received a gold sword and the Order of Military Merit from Louis XVI. In 1787 Congress passed a vote of thanks for his honor of the American Fleet and they gave him a gold medal. When returned to America in 1781, Jones spent the remaining years of the war advising on the establishment of the navy and the training of naval officers. Jones is often referred to as the Father of the American navy.

After the Americans had won their independence, Jones offered his services to the Russian Empress Catherine II and was granted the rank of rear admiral, serving there for about two years. In May 1790 he returned to Paris where he spent the rest of his life in failing health. He wrote letters to his two estranged sisters in Scotland and to the French Minister of Marine to pay salaries to the men of Bonhomme Richard. On July 18th, 1792, Jones died at the age of 45 in his apartment in Paris.

For near on a century, John Paul Jones' body laid in an unmarked grave for foreign Protestants. In the late 1800s, with a great American naval expansion encouraged by Teddy Roosevelt, intensive research was made to find his body, which it was in 1905. Jones’ body was brought back on USS Brooklyn, and as the ship sailed into Chesapeake Bay seven battleships met them and fired off salutes. In 1913, his body was finally laid to rest at the chapel crypt of Annapolis Naval Academy, in a magnificent marble sarcophagus modeled after the tomb of Napoleon, his tomb is a major tourist attraction in the Maryland capital.

[desertdollranch]

When Addy Walker escaped slavery with her mother and arrived in Philadelphia, she didn't know how to read or write. She had never even seen her name written down. But when she started attending school, she very quickly learned to write and spell words, and in only a few weeks became a better reader than children who had been reading for years and years, like her classmate Harriet. Soon, Addy was teaching her mother to read.

Addy learned so quickly, in fact, that her teacher Miss Dunn noticed her aptitude, and recommended her for admission into the Institute for Colored Youth. Attending the ICY would train Addy to be a teacher, and would give her the chance to be educated on a broad range of subjects.

Addy's story is fiction, but the ICY was a real place founded in 1837 to training students for various trades and careers, before eventually moving its focus specifically to teacher training.

Addy is wearing the Striped Dress from her retired collection; it's associated with her short story "High Hopes for Addy", which features and illustration of her wearing the dress. The desks are off-brand replicas. I made her school satchel and supplies.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

The simple yet powerful way Tim Walz just exposed Donald Trump

John Stoehr

September 20, 2024 6:51AM ET

US Democratic vice presidential candidate Minnesota Governor Tim Walz speaks at Temple University in Philadelphia on August 6, 2024. © Brendan Smialowski, AFP

This article was paid for by Raw Story subscribers. Not a subscriber? Try us and go ad-free for $1. Prefer to give a one-time tip? Click here.

Tim Walz was in Michigan recently. In a stump speech, he noted differing views on the meaning of homeownership. He said that for “the real estate mogul, the venture capitalist, whatever,” a house is “just an asset to be traded and sold.” To everyone else, however, it’s “a place to gather around the kitchen table to talk with our kids about what happened at school.”

The message was simple but powerful.

Donald Trump (“the real estate mogul”) and JD Vance (“the venture capitalist, whatever”) stand together as normal men who care about and understand the normal struggles of normal Americans, but they are not normal, nor do they care about or understand normal people’s struggles.

They don’t even know the meaning of owning a house and what it takes to achieve that dream. To them, it’s not real. It’s an abstraction. It has no value beyond its market value. But “to us,” Walz said, it’s so much more.

“That’s what Kamala Harris wants for you,” he said.

ALSO READ: Let's call Springfield what it is: Republican-made terrorism

Leigh McGowan, a social media influencer who goes by “Politics Girl,” watched the speech. She saw how Walz uses simple words to capture a common experience to rally normal Americans toward the common good and against “the real estate mogul, the venture capitalist, whatever.”

Then McGowan did something useful.

She named Walz’s rhetoric.

“It feels like he cannot possibly be real,” McGowan said. “Here’s this man who is masculine without being weirdly alpha, who hunts, who shoots, who was a teacher, who is a veteran. He’s just a good dad and a great husband, and he believes in the nation. He’s not trying to be president, he doesn’t have bigger ambitions, and he’s happy to be second banana to a woman. It’s like you made him in a lab as the perfect candidate.

“He talks to us in common sense,” she said.

Trump’s uncommon languageIf Tim Walz talks in common sense, what does Trump talk in?

Well, it’s common in that grievance and hate are ubiquitous. Beyond that, however, Trump does not communicate using words everyone can understand to relate the joys and sorrows they have experienced.

Virtually every word he chooses says more about him than it does anyone else. So while you don’t have to know anything about Tim Walz to understand his speeches, you have to know a lot about Donald Trump to understand his. Indeed, to talk about his speeches requires a kind of specialized language. And if you don’t know the lingo, you’re lost.

After nearly a decade in the public eye, Trump’s presence has become commonplace. It took someone like Walz speaking in the language of common sense to jolt us out of the normalcy that is Trump. Walz helped us realize we don’t really understand what the man is talking about.

I would even say the impact of that jolt is why McGowan said Walz “feels like he cannot possibly be real.” But it’s not Walz who doesn’t feel real.

It’s Trump.

Thanks in part to Walz, it’s clearer now than ever that Trump’s speeches have gotten longer, windier and more rambling. They start out grounded in discernable reality but eventually, they become so abstract as to be meaningless. Here he is, explaining, well, I don’t really know.

I don't think I've ever said this before. So we do these rallies. They're massive rallies. Everybody loves, everybody stays till the end. By the way, you know, when she said that, well, your rallies people leave. Honestly, nobody does. And if I saw them leaving, I'd say, and ladies and gentlemen make America great again and I'd get the hell out, ok? Because I don't want people leaving. But I do have to say so I give these long sometimes very complex sentences and paragraphs but they all come together. I do it a lot. I do it with Raising Cain. That story. I do it with the story on the catapults on the aircraft carriers. I do it with a lot of different stories. When I mentioned Doctor Hannibal Lecter, I'm using that as an example of people that are coming in from Silence of the Lambs. I use it. They say it's terrible. So they say so I'll give this long complex area for instance that I talked about a lot of different territory. The bottomline I said the most important thing. We’re going to bring more plants to your state and this country to make automobiles. We’re going to be bigger than before. The fake news and there’s a lot of them back there. You know, for a town hall, there's a lot of people but the fake news likes to say, the fake news likes to say, oh, he was rambling. No, no, that's not rambling. That's genius. When you can connect the dots. Now, now, Sarah, if you couldn't connect the dots, you got a problem. But every dot was connected and many stories were told in that little paragraph.

A normal person’s common language

Trump may not sound like a rich man, but he’s still a rich man.

When he talks about normal things, it sounds weird.

He has never gone back-to-school shopping. He has never pumped his own gas. He’s never written a check for the electric bill. He does not know what it’s like to be sticker-shocked at the supermarket. He has no idea what it feels like to go from renting to owning. He sure-as-hell doesn’t know how it feels to be forced to choose between food and medical bills.

He does not even know the meaning of a $10 bill. He does not know what it can buy, because $10 to “the real estate mogul” isn’t money. It’s power.

Indeed, $10 means nothing, just as tariffs mean nothing. Tariffs aren’t real economic tools presidents use to address real economic problems. They are abstractions. As such, whether they work makes no difference to him. Whether they cause suffering doesn’t matter. Suffering is abstract, too.

To a normal person, the price of things is about as real as it gets.

To Trump, the price of things is as real as fairy dust.

So he can say, as he did this week, that he will lower “energy bills” by 50 percent. He can say, as he did in January, that the cost of gasoline has gone from under $2 a gallon to “5, 6, 7, 8 dollars.” He can say, as he did this week, that he will decrease the price of food by decreasing the food supply (via tariffs on imports). To a normal person, that makes no sense. To a rich man, sense is beside the point. Money isn’t money. It’s power.

In the end, you don’t have to know much about Tim Walz to understand his speeches, because Tim Walz is himself a normal person. He knows the meaning of a $10 bill. He knows the meaning of owning a home. He speaks in common sense, because his own experience is so common. When he says, “that’s what Kamala Harris wants for you,” it makes sense.

It feels real.

[ourladyofomega]

Do you remember life as it was pre-internet and pre-smartphone? Is it something you are nostalgic for? What aspects of your life still are like the pre-internet days that you anticipate to stay that way (at least for 10 more years)?

Absolutely, because I experienced it. Specifically, the last few years before grasping PCs full-time in community college. Back then, my diaries weren't written with pen and paper. I hit ‘record’ on my tape deck and have it write it all for me. I listen to those cassettes (that I still have and have been all digitized) and they instantly return me to the alternative and hip-hop / rap's golden era; back when we had Biggie and 2Pac. The feelings were different. The style, the vibe, the type of people around me. There was this constant camaraderie because everyone was around you. I always had friends and plenty of moments within reach. Meeting people outside the neighborhood was way more interesting because they were the type mine didn't have.

Each song that I'm listing right now still gives me a very specific moment and feeling experienced by me, for me, and only me. Songs like Da Youngstas' "Hip-Hop Ride" and Stone Temple Pilot’s “Vasoline” when my family and I took the ferry to Mashantucket, listening to Crooklyn Dodgers' eponymous track on my Walkman when I walked home from school, or Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" as a bargaining chip to win the favor of girls from another neighborhood. Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man “The What” and O.C.’s “Time’s Up” were the soundtrack to when I spent a week in Staten Island with my then-hood cousins. Sitting on my friend’s curb while listening to The Doors' "Light My Fire", or hearing Cutmasta D.C.’s “Brooklyn’s In The House” while I was crushing on someone I never met before. I can go on ad infinitum. The music meant so much to me that I started making seasonal mixtapes to revisit those moments anytime I want. Those feels still get to me to this day. I could also say the same for VHS. I literally have hundreds of tapes stored with me. It was a race to record every Philadelphia deathmatch and classic (Seventies and Eighties) game show because us fans feared they’d be lost forever. All of us has some Marion Stokes in us. Some more than others. I still kept hitting ‘record’ while I began record-shopping and found rare titles through backpage catalogs, bought compilations and magazines to discover new artists, and relied on word-of-mouth and mixtape trades amongst friends. This was what music-chasers had before MP3s amplified it all for everyone, including myself.

Even gaming. Going out of your way to the video store and literally borrow or buy and keep physical games - the solid state-era. Fighters were so much fun when you had everyone on the block at your house with no actual fist-fights and crucial shit broken. Or, having a literal crowd of people surrounding you during a one-on-one at Street Fighter found at every pizzeria, stationery, or laundromat. Human interaction was king back then. It was somewhat of a less toxic aura of life before smartphones, social media, or downloading took the mystique out of everything we experience now and poisoned us with repetition re-enforcement.

Now? We’re all used to it. It’s routine for everyone. The same ubiquitous being shoves all the world’s ills and hard pills to swallow down your throat while giving you an equal amount of solace, wisdom, and outreach in return. We traded in all the mystique of discovering things we once never knew of for the convenience of finding and getting what we want, when we want - with quick decisions to boot. We’ve taken it for granted. I still do everything I’ve done timelines ago, albeit differently now. I’ve always stayed in touch with the past while always moving forward and grasping the moments ahead.

Things changed when my uncle gifted my dad a Dell desktop and monitor. He loved free music. We were surprised that we could get anything we wanted instantly. We never looked back since. My music knowledge exponentially exploded through the roof thanks to the digital tide. Still does. I’ve always appreciated the classic synthpop, industrial, golden-era hip-hop / rap, alternative, hardcore, and electronic era while staying in touch with sampling, and discovering d.i.y., synthwave, noise, d-beat, indie, metalcore, long-lost African tapes, and deafening shoegaze over the last few years.

Discoveries of the last calendar decade are part of my current experiences. I can hear Crystal Castle’s “Pap Smear” in my head every time I drive to the radio station in cold Winter nights. The sounds of Suicide’s “Cheree” marked the time I re-connected with a former potential. L.I.E.S. Music For Shut-Ins, Dum Dum Girls’ “Bhang Bhang”, and Tantor’s “Niedernwöhren” stamped my time in Lindenhurst, Hauppage, and Ronkonkoma respectively. Bereket Mengistaab’s “Lebay”, Antwon’s “Helicopter”, and Gong Gong Gong’s “Siren” defined all the walks to the neighborhood veteran’s park. Black Marble’s “A Great Design” forever reminds me of that sunny June day in Greenpoint waiting in line to see Cold Cave. Both pandemic shut-ins and a day out with a mutual / potential would meet at Jade Imagine’s “Remote Control” and Eddie Russ’ “Zaius”. Yard Act’s “Dark Days” for the pinball arcade revival and the drive out to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade. And how can I forget Blonde Redhead’s “Melody Experiment” to mark a triple crown September weekend of family reunions in Staten Island, Cold Waves XI, and a drop-dead birthday gift from one of my all-time favorites?

I still spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars carefree on vinyl, cassettes, and discs while acquiring and salvaging everything digitally. No more magazines, replaced with tons of music sites and outlets. (Again, downloading and the endless-open of accessing sounds made it too easy.). You used to buy blind at the record store and be totally walloped at something you never imagined before. Now, you’ll find it everywhere online with no effort. Have all the free cards, spins, and rolls you want. I remember making my first online order ages ago, and smelled the production those fresh packages of vinyl records and discs in the mail. I’ll still purchase rare musicks online that I won’t find in stores.

Backseat rides with Walkmans were replaced with iPods and now iPhones on train lines to New York City; allowing me to carry flat, faceless MP3s rather than physical art, liner notes, thank-yous, and that sugary smell of plastic, booklets, and J-cards. It all still produces new memories and visions to this day. The mixtapes were replaced by CD-R’s for a few years before creating simple personal playlists I still make to this day.

Former childhood memories of opening / closing credits and themes, station i.d.’s, production credits, commercials, and chyrons are re-captured again with a quick rip. Most of the essential shows of my wasted youth becamse a few keywords away. Emulation leaves the door open to an era when it was simpler, more charming, and fun. Not today with the endless parade of stoic first-person shooters devoid of personality and micro-transactions nickel-and-dime you while providing misogyny / misandry, endless shit-talking, swatting, and fault-finding in everyone - all enjoyed by your lonesome online.

So many people assumed that vinyl records, cassettes, and video / pinball arcades fell into the wayside because of “better” technology. They surged back because we still appreciate and want the real thing. We’ve done a great job carrying everything over digitally and still kept it all.

Oh, I almost forgot. About people:

We’ve been facing technology as a double-edge sword bringing out the best and worst out of all of us, pushing out everything for the whole world to see. Remember what I mentioned earlier about one hand poisoning you while the other cures?  

It’s amplified world ills that always existed but made more apparent: rigged elections, the media selling war and dictatorships, disinformation, online gambling, political division, trauma and desensitization of violence and sex, losing privacy - all in an accelerated rate. We worried more about it now, now more than ever.

We never stressed over constant triggers, reminders, fear of missing out, or seeing your life in stasis as friends, families, rivals, and enemies move on (as a form of unintentional competition) like we do now. We shelve daylight and beautiful days for the hypnotism of constant mind-numbing updates, communication, and lethargy. Or, how young girls are constantly told they’re not good enough, learn about the double-standard, be gaslighted, or put themselves out there all-or-nothing to be noticed.

Dating was way easier back then because we didn’t have the bad ideas we have now. Dating sites created a power to pick and choose easily who our next potential or interest is; for winners to treat people like a commodity, dispose of, and ghost them. A comedy of errors for the losers starring broken-down self-esteem and self-confidence, paranoia, blatant intentions, loneliness, and game-playing more apparent. All the hands played are face up and for all to see. Draw, play, and discard at will.

It used to be that you wouldn’t know or believe what former classmates, co-workers, significants, or associates were up to through hearsay. Now it’s all within reach. Imagine being floored when you see your exes- have families, kids, or criminal records. Feel the sting when former #1’s smile with their new partners, or be totally surprised when others lives didn’t turn out as expected. Careers, money, marriage, relationships, adventures, accomplishments, births, deaths, suicides. Some have made you feel vindicated, at level with your peers, heartbroken, or missing out while everyone moves forward.

We throw rocks at people or hurt feelings from a distance, run, and get away with it. We pick and choose who lives and careers we can ruin in an instant, who to ridicule, or define someone with a ten-second meme for the rest of their lives. Or the many new ways people in general can be nasty towards each other. There’s so much bitterness, one-upsmanship, snarkiness, and manufactured drama because we allowed (social) media to run our minds for us. No middle-ground. Pick a side and vilify anyone who disagrees with you because we’re always right, even when we’re wrong. Demonize those who do the same things you do as well. It’s made us into miserable troublesome animals.

But…

Life for me has been so different since the divide that I’ve experienced quite a few events I normally wouldn’t. I started using this hellsite years ago to create an online journalism portfolio - which later on became a place for design, writing, and photography. It’s allowed me to document my time in radio (WUSB) and also show everyone how diverse, original, and open I am about myself and music. I love the gratification when someone reaches out to me about a favorite artist or record, and I love sharing some rare or obscure things only I know about that no one else does. It’s made what I do a unique experience.

I’ve met mutuals that I’d never even thought I’d ever meet (including two from my neighborhood!). There’s specific mutuals who untapped my potential, who I’d do wonderful things for that I wouldn’t for anyone else. These are the same people who I learned to trust and allowed me to be open with, minus the hair-trigger persecution, judgment, and ridicule from the rest. I keep my lines open for my closest ones trapped in destructive addiction, anxiety, bi-polarity, and isolation.

I’ve taken social and world events more seriously. It’s made me to give support who are worse off than me, to have compassion for people, to see opposite side of things, and recognize the real from fake. I have no patience for sensationalist tabloid garbage or the new reverse of ‘fake news’, and go right to what really matters to me: police brutality, the ongoing Palestine / Israel war, LGBTA rights, women’s rights, and other issues at hand.

I returned to my childhood I once abandoned since YouTube was very young. I constantly find everything jazz, sample, and crate-digging from that era to stay in touch with who I am.

Not even ten years ago, I couldn’t even fathom the concept of working at home. I left a decade of physical retail to do remote sales, and still stayed with the company to keep my health insurance, savings, and my time-off. I don’t deal with people’s attitudes, awkward interactions, or be forced into uneasy situations anymore. A literal live-saver.

Conversely, the post-internet era had introduced some hardcore pain in my life. I had one instance when a local mutual I wanted to meet tore my heart right out. Real bad. She’s why my journey into anxiety, depression, and mental health advocacy all started. No thanks to her. Another potential I met entered into my life thanks to social media (pre-Hellsite). She was someone who later on became an addict and I dated her for three months. She dumped me and burned her bridges when her boyfriend overdosed and died. I’ve also reached out to interests and potentials whom I made plans with; only for them to cancel at the very last minute. Their actions left me a “what-if” moment that’ll stay with me forever. It’s an all-or-nothing game we’re faced to play if we want to win. I look back and ended up accepting things I used to be dismissive of, and learned some things about myself I never expected to.

Yeah. Crazy to think that we experienced a change in our lifetimes - a Pandora’s Box - that we can never close. What used to be a novelty is now the norm, and what we used to take for granted is now a novelty in itself (the Othello effect). I know all these major constants will continue on, through whatever form or favor they become. Lord only knows what it will be. Place your bets now. **********

You’re more than free to ask me the same question again in 25 years. By then, you might ask me if I remember life as it was pre-dictatorship, what I’m nostalgic for, and what aspects of my life have stayed the same since. Count your lucky stars we don’t end up there.

[fadedghsts]

INTRODUCING MAEVE PETERS: just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.

FULL NAME            maeve willow peters.

BIRTHDAY              december 15th ( 27) . 

BIRTHPLACE          philadelphia, pennsylvania.

GENDER                 cis female.

OCCUPATION     paramedic.

BUILD                     athletic.

HAIR COLOR         blonde .

EYE COLOR           brown.

HEIGHT                  5’6

PARENTS              maxwell peters ( father ), wayne roberts ( biological father ) + jasmine peters ( mother )

SIBLINGS        older half-brother (on biological father's side), .

PETS                    none.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: piper halliwell (charmed), joey potter (dawsons creek), chloe beale (pitch perfect), vic hughes (station 19), sylvie brett (chicago fire)

BIOGRAPHY with mentions of abuse:

Maeve Peters entered the world on a frigid Tuesday morning in the dead of winter, born to Jasmine and Maxwell Peters in the backseat of their old 1986 Bronco. The circumstances of her birth might have been unconventional, but she was enveloped in the love and care of her parents. Jasmine, a waitress, and Maxwell, a lawyer, worked tirelessly to provide for their little family, despite the secret Jasmine carried.

When Jasmine met Maxwell, their romance was a whirlwind, leading to an engagement within weeks. However, Jasmine was pregnant with another man’s child, Wayne Roberts. Despite her deep love for Wayne, she discovered his double life and refused to settle for anything less than genuine commitment. It was sheer luck or fate that she found Maxwell so soon after, and he was never aware of the true timeline. When Jasmine returned a month later claiming she was pregnant with his child, Maxwell married her without hesitation. Seven months later, Maeve was born.

Maeve's childhood was simple and pleasant. She excelled academically and spent summers with her grandparents. A naturally observant child, she grew into a more outgoing yet still reserved young woman. In high school, she was captain of the dance squad, president of the student council, yearbook editor, and valedictorian. Her life unfolded as she had hoped, and after high school, she pursued getting her EMT certificate, much to her parents' pride.

After getting her EMT certificate and working for a few months, she then decided to go to school to become a paramedic. Two years later, she officially became a paramedic in her hometown. On her 24th birthday, she went out with colleagues and met Kyle, a bartender from a nearby town. Their connection was immediate and intense, leading to a relationship that started off blissfully but soon turned toxic. Kyle's frequent lies and infidelity eroded Maeve's trust, and he began manipulating her, painting her as the problem in their deteriorating relationship.

The abuse escalated until, after a particularly violent episode where Kyle left bruises on her arms, Maeve decided enough was enough. With only a duffel bag and her savings, she headed to a small town which she had found by picking a spot on the map, eventually finding solace in the small town of Hollowcreek.

In Hollowcreek, Maeve soon found the fresh start she desperately needed. In the year that she’s been there, it has proven to be exactly the refuge she was searching for.

HEADCANONS

she always wears the cross necklace that her mother had gifted her on her eighteen birthday. she believes that it brings her luck especially when she's on the job. it has been through the ringer with her, but she wouldn't trade it for anything else.

when she's not at work, she is usually found on the roof of her apartment complex watching the stars. she has even purchased her own star from a star registry. she has learned a lot about the constellations throughout the past year that she has been in hollowcreek.

maeve is actually super smart despite what most people think about her. they see her blonde hair and assume that she is ditzy but she is anything but. she has worked hard to get ahead of the stereotype and will be the first to show off just how smart she is.

her favorite season is winter and she wishes that it could be winter all the time. she loves the cold weather and the snow but she especially loves being able to cuddle on her couch with a cup of hot chocolate watching christmas romance movies.

CONNECTIONS

someone she saved (any gender and any age): this could be someone in hollow creek or back in philly where she was located before she moved a year ago. this would be someone that she met while being an EMT or paramedic and she essentially saved them. what happened is up to the player. 

childhood friends or anyone she knew in philly (any gender and any age): they could have been just friends, acquaintances, neighbors. the options are endless and it would be fun to have people in her old life show up in hollow creek. 

older brother (male, aged between 28-35): this is her biological half sibling. her biological father would also be their father. she has never met them and doesn’t even know that he exists. it would be fun to play out in terms of how he found her and how their relationship would ultimately play out. 

[lboogie1906]

Barbara Ann Rowan (September 6, 1938 - October 31, 2020) was the first Black woman to become a prosecutor in the office of the US Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Born in Upper Manhattan, she was the only child of Norman B. Rowan, an accountant who had been born in Jamaica, and Clara (Obey) Rowan, born in Philadelphia, who worked in the accounting practice.

She attended Barnard College, earning a BA in Spanish, plus a Certificate in Language and Literature from the University of Madrid. She earned her JD from the New York University School of Law in the evening program, while working during the day as a court transcriptionist. She served as a translator of Spanish and Italian in the Family Court.

She practiced as a public defender for the South Bronx Legal Services and in private practice. She was invited to interview with the US Attorney’s office for the Southern District of New York and was hired. She prosecuted drug and fraud cases. She was remembered for engaging jurors “with humor and charm.”

She joined the staff of a House of Representatives ethics committee investigation. She served as an assistant director of the Federal Trade Commission. She founded a private consulting firm, Rowan Associates.

She married Harold W. Gossett II (1972). He was an investigator for the office of the US Attorney for the Southern District of New York. He became an FBI agent and after leaving the Bureau he joined Rowan Associates and worked with Rowan at the consulting firm for 35 years.

She organized a written protest by Black attorneys following the use of a racial epithet during a lawyer’s speech at an Alexandria Bar Association meeting in Virginia. The lawyer apologized, and the incident led to the formation of the Northern Virginia Black Attorneys Association. She was a member of the National Conference of Black Lawyers and the National Bar Association. She was an accomplished swimmer and dancer.

Her husband survived her. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[petervintonjr]

Everybody say hello to Gwendolyn Zoharah Simmons: activist, teacher, and researcher. Born in 1944 Memphis, Gwendolyn was the first generation in her family to attend college (Spelman, 1962). She credits her grandmother, Rhonda Bell Robinson, with having instilled in her the family's history and its reckoning with slavery, her own hardships growing up as a sharecropper, and how Mississippi was objectively the "worst of the worst" for Black people. Gwendolyn solemnly promised her grandmother that she would never go to Mississippi. (And don't even get her started on the epic confrontations with teachers and school officials about the "inappropriateness of her hair." Boy, it's sure nice that that sort of racial dress-code pettiness isn't a thing anymore, huh?)

In the 1960's, inspired by several Spelman professors (to include Howard Zinn), Gwendolyn actively and enthusiastically became involved in the SNCC against her family's wishes. She participated in sit-ins and endured several arrests, ultimately jeopardizing her Spelman scholarship. She helped prepare curricula for Freedom Schools and coordinated mock voter registrations, working under Bob Moses (see Lesson 112 in this series) and alongside James Forman and her fellow Spelman alum Ruby Doris Smith-Robinson (see Lesson 66). Eventually she came into the orbit of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, and ultimately found herself taking over as director of the Mississippi Summer Project in 1964 when its previous director, Lester McKinney, had been picked up by Laurel police. She herself was arrested in Jackson following a march; being held, beaten and tortured for 15 days in a makeshift prison constructed on the county fairgrounds.

Gwendolyn later moved briefly to New York, and then to Atlanta where she worked on Julian Bond's state campaign (see Lesson 72). She continued to work with the local chapter of the SNCC, authoring a controversial position paper on Black Power that argued against expelling its white members. Around this time Gwendolyn also (unsurprisingly) found herself on the FBI's notorious Counterintelligence Program (COINTELPRO) target list. Inspired by the speeches of Malcolm X, Gwendolyn joined Nation Of Islam in the late 1960's and changed her name to Zoharah (also taking her husband Michael Simmons' last name), and moved to Philadelphia. However her strong feminist principles contravened a number of NOI teachings, putting her at odds with the organization's stance on women as submissive helpmeets. Over the next 20 years she worked for the American Friends Service Committee, travelling to Jordan, Egypt, Syria, and (significantly) Palestine.

Gwendolyn retired from the University of Florida in 2019; conducting and leading research that explores Islamic feminism and the cultural impact of Sharia law on Muslim women. Today Simmons is senior lecturer emerita, continuing to travel and lecture on gender equality, and on many other issues affecting Black Americans, feminism, and social inequities. Her and Michael Simmons' daughter Aishah Shahidah Simmons, is herself an accomplished documentary filmmaker. (Teachers: Need some resources to engage your students this Black History Month? I'll send you a pile of these trading cards, no cost, no obligation. Just give me a mailing address and let me know how many students in your class. No strings attached, no censorship, no secret-relaying-of-names to Abbott or DeSantis or HuckaSanders.)

[pttedu]

Step into the heart of skilled craftsmanship at Philadelphia Technician Training Institute. Our behind-the-scenes video showcases the dedication, precision, and expertise that goes into hands-on training for skilled trades. From automotive mechanics to HVAC technicians, witness the passion and skill shaping tomorrow's workforce. Join us on this journey of craftsmanship and discovery.

[strawberryblondebutch]

I want to talk about a Supreme Court case.

It's a very bad Supreme Court case. One of the worst of all time - in its effects on contemporary life, in its handling of the law, and even in its writing.

This is Curt Flood. He's best known as a center fielder for the St. Louis Cardinals. The Cardinals acquired him because, at the time, owner Gussie Busch believed that having high-end Black talent on the team would get Black Americans to drink more Busch Light. But that's a story for another time.

After the 1969 season, the Cardinals traded Curt Flood to the Philadelphia Phillies in exchange for Dick Allen. Allen was a better player and a bigger name.

Curt Flood did not want to play in Philly. He heard from Dick Allen himself how racist the fans were, and he had no intention of playing for them. But Curt Flood did not have a choice, because at the time, baseball had what was called a reserve clause. There was no free agency. There weren't any no-trade clauses. The team had total control over your career until they traded you or cut you.

Flood, as well as the burgeoning MLB players' union, took offense to this practice, and they took the league to court. Due to some terrible interpretation of the law, Flood v. Kuhn was an abysmal failure of labor law that I could talk about all day.

But this isn't about the reserve clause, and this is not about Curt Flood.

In District Court, Flood's attorney argued that the reserve clause was a violation of the 13th Amendment. Not giving a player any freedom in where they play was tantamount to involuntary servitude. The judge presiding over the case threw that argument out almost at once. Nobody, the judge argued, has a right to play baseball. If Flood didn't want to be a Phillie, he could retire.

I think about this when the latest supposedly-reformed piece of shit gets his second, third, fourth chance. That his supporters always say he changed, and he deserves it.

No one has a right to play baseball. It's a privilege you lose when you threaten to kill your wife.

No one has a right to coach a team. It's a privilege you lose when you psychologically abuse the players under your care.

No one has a right to general manage an NHL team. It's a privilege you lose when you cover up one of your players being sexually assaulted, then write a letter of recommendation so his abuser can work in a high school.

You can put in all the work to be a better person, but that doesn't automatically mean the doors should open for you. Playing, coaching, managing - these are all privileges. Privileges that can and should be taken away if they are abused. Especially if those actions were done within your official capacity as a manager.

Stan Bowman claims he's changed? Fine. That doesn't give him the right to GM again.

[nicklloydnow]

Thomas Paine by Laurent Dabos (1791)

“The Sudden Emergence of Tom Paine

At the beginning of 1776, New England was ready for independence. So were such leading radicals as Richard Henry Lee and Patrick Henry of Virginia, Christopher Gadsden of South Carolina, and army leaders such as George Washington and Charles Lee. But the bulk of the colonies and the Continental Congress were not. One of the main stumbling blocks to a commitment to independence was personal loyalty to the British crown. There has always been a political taboo of almost mystical force against attacking the head of state, and always the convenient though emasculating custom of attributing his sins to his evil or incompetent advisers. Such long-standing habits impeded a rational analysis of the deeds of King George III. Furthermore, the old and obsolete Whig ideal of virtual independence under a figurehead king of both Britain and America could only be shattered if the king were to be attacked personally.

To rupture this taboo, to smash the icon, and so to liberate America from its thrall required a special type of man, a man fearless, courageous, and radical, an intellectual with a gift for dramatic and exciting rhetoric and unfettered by the many ties that bind a man to the existing system. At this strategic hour America found just such a man: Thomas Paine.

Unlike most of the other eminent leaders of his day, there was nothing in the least aristocratic in the background of Tom Paine. The son of a poor English corset maker, he was forced to educate himself for lack of schooling. After serving a checkered career as corset maker, sailor, and petty bureaucrat, he finally rose to the status of a minor English tax collector. He was soon characteristically in trouble with the authorities. Chosen by his fellow excise collectors in 1772 to petition Parliament for higher wages, he was curtly dismissed from the service by the authorities. Unemployed, bankrupt, the unhappy Paine began his life again at the age of thirty-seven by emigrating to America, armed only with a letter of introduction he had managed to obtain from Benjamin Franklin in London.

Landing in Philadelphia toward the end of 1774, he got a job with a Philadelphia printer and soon rose to the editorship of the printer's insignificant Pennsylvania Magazine. He quickly proved himself an outstanding writer and publicist and quickly made his reputation as a libertarian by publishing a blistering attack on the institution of slavery. In "African Slavery in America," written shortly after his arrival and published in early March 1775, Paine pointed out that the African natives were often peaceful and industrious farmers brought into slavery either by European man-theft or by outsiders inducing the African chieftains to war on each other and to sell their prisoners into slavery. He also riddled the common excuse that purchase and ownership of existing slaves was somehow moral, in contrast to the wickedness of the original enslavement: "Such men may as well join with a known band of robbers, buy their ill-got goods, and help on the trade; ignorance is no more pleadable in one case than the other . . . and as the true owner has the right to reclaim his goods that were stolen, and sold; so the slave, who is proper owner of his freedom, has a right to reclaim it, however often sold." The slaves, being human, have not lost their natural right to their freedom, and therefore, concluded Paine, "the governments . . . should in justice set them free, and punish those who hold them in slavery."

Shortly after this article was published, the first abolitionist society—The Society for the Promotion of the Abolition of Slavery—was established at Philadelphia. Largely Quaker, it included the deist Paine as one of its members.

Lexington and Concord moved Paine to turn his talents to the radical revolutionary cause. In July he urged upon the Quakers the justice of taking up arms in defense of liberty so long as disarmament is not universal. He denounced the British government as highwaymen setting forth to plunder American property; therefore, in self defense, "arms like laws discourage and keep the invader and plunderer in awe." For the British, "nothing but arms or miracles can reduce them to reason and moderation." And in October he combined his antislavery and proindependence views to castigate Great Britain for trafficking in human flesh, and he looked forward to an independence that would end the slave trade and, ultimately, all of slavery.

All this culminated in Paine's tremendous blow for American independence. His fiery and brilliant pamphlet Common Sense, off the press in early January 1776, spread like wildfire throughout the colonies. A phenomenal 120,000 copies were sold in the space of three months. Passages were reprinted in newspapers all over America. All this meant that nearly every literate home was familiar with the pamphlet. Tom Paine had, at a single blow, become the voice of the American Revolution and the greatest single force in propelling it to completion and independence. Charles Lee wrote jubilantly and prophetically to Washington that "I never saw such a masterly, irresistible performance. It will . . . in concurrence with the transcendent folly and wickedness of the ministry, give the coup de grace to Great Britain." And Washington himself endorsed "the sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning" of Common Sense.

Common Sense called squarely and openly for American independence, and pointed to the choice for Americans as essentially between independence and slavery. But what was more, Paine boldly smashed the icon, directing his most devastating fire at King George himself. For the first time, the king, "the Royal Brute of Great Britain," was pinpointed as the major enemy—the king himself, not just his wicked advisers (the king's advisers were attacked as being in thrall to him). Paine had quashed the taboo, and Americans flocked to imbibe his liberating message.

Not stopping at indicting George III, Paine pressed on to a comprehensive attack on the very principle of monarchy. The ancient Jews had prospered without kings and had suffered under them, he wrote, following the great English tradition of Milton and Sidney; and Holland flourished as a republic. But more important, the division between kings and subjects is unnatural, and bears no relation to the natural distinction between rich and poor on the market. How, indeed, had the natural equality of men before the law become transposed into subjection to a monarch? "We should find the first of them [kings] nothing better than the principal ruffian of some restless gang; whose savage manners or pre-eminence in subtilty obtained him the title of chief among plunderers; and who by increasing in power and extending his depredations, overawed the quiet and defenseless . . . . “ And now the kings were but "crowned ruffians."

In this way, Paine not only laid bare the roots of monarchy, but provided a brilliant insight into the nature and origins of the State itself. He had made a crucial advance in libertarian theory upon the social-contract doctrine of the origin of the State. While he followed Locke in holding that the State should be confined to the protection of man's natural rights, he saw clearly that actual states had not originated in this way or for this purpose. Instead, they had been born in naked conquest and plunder.

Another vital contribution of Common Sense to libertarian thought was Paine's sharp quasi-anarchistic distinction between "society" and "government." Indeed, Paine opened his pamphlet with these words:

Some writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave litte or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants and governed by our wickedness. . . . The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a patron, the last a punisher.

Society in every state, is a blessing, but government, even in its best state, is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one: for when we suffer . . . the same miseries by a government, which we might expect in a country without government, our calamity is heightened by reflecting that we furnish the means by which we suffer. Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence; the palaces of kings are built upon the ruins of the bowers of paradise.

In addition to limning brilliantly the nature and origins of monarchy and the State, calling boldly for independence, and attacking George III, Paine set forth the proper foreign policy for an independent America. Here he argued that the connection with Great Britain entailed upon Americans burdens rather than rewards. The Americans should not be tempted by the prospect of Anglo-American domination of the world; on the contrary, America would vastly benefit from throwing open its trade and ports freely to all nations. Further, the alliance with Britain "tends directly to involve this continent in European wars and quarrels, and set us at variance with nations . . . against whom we have neither anger nor complaint." As Europe is our market for trade, we ought to form no partial connection with any part of it. It is the true interest of America to steer clear of European contentions, which she can never do while "she is made the make-weight in the scale of British politics." Thus, Paine adumbrated for America what was later to be called a foreign policy of "isolationism," but which might also be called neutrality or neutralism. Whatever it is called, it is essentially the libertarian policy of free trade and peaceful coexistence with all nations; it is an America that acts as a moral beacon for mankind rather than as judge or policeman.

In addition to all these achievements, Paine managed to outline in this brief pamphlet the internal political program of the libertarian wing of the American Revolution: the new democratic system naturally created by the Revolution. This consisted of rule by democratically elected legislatures established by proportionate representation and responsible to checks upon them by the people. The aim of such government was simply to protect every man's natural rights of liberty and property: "Securing freedom and property to all men, and above all things, the free exercise of religion. . . ." He saw that the superficially plausible lucubrations of such Tory writers as Montesquieu and Blackstone, with their talk of mixed constitutions and checks and balances, masked the repression and hobbling of the democratic element by unchecked aristocracy and oligarchy. Human reason, he implied, must be brought to bear on the myths and accretions of government itself. The much-vaunted British constitution was a tangle of complexities, and hence vague and devoid of a focus of responsibility. In effect, he charged, the so-called checks and balances have led to the aggrandizement of monarchical tyranny over the other branches of government. Indeed, at any given time, for government to act at all, one of the branches must predominate and outweigh the checks and balances. This argument is reminiscent of Edmund Burke's blast against the idea of mixed and balanced government in his anarchistic first work, The Vindication of Natural Society.

Paine concluded the bulk of his magnificent pamphlet with these stirring lines: "O! Ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose not only the tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth! Every spot of the old world is overrun with oppression. Freedom hath been hunted round the globe. . . . O! Receive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for mankind." Sounding the clarion call for the democratic-libertarian cause as the party of hope, the party of progress, in short, the party of a secular, rational messianism, he eloquently hailed the impending future: "We have it in our power to begin the world over again. . . . The birthday of a new world is at hand. . . .”

The explosive success of Common Sense emboldened the radicals to follow with pamphlets and articles extolling the goal of independence, excoriating King George as "a full-blooded Nero," and anticipating the great benefits of free trade with all the world that would flow from an independent status.

That the Tories, and quasi Tories, and conservatives who opposed independence should abominate Common Sense was, of course, to be expected, reviling it as that "artful, insidious and pernicious" work of sedition and "phrenzy." Several Tories hastened to publish pamphlets of rebuttal, warning of the "ruin, horror, and desolation" that would stem from abandoning the happy and peaceful status of a colony to pursue the romantic chimera of independence. Independence was roundly denounced as absurdly impractical and "Utopian," a project of "ambitious innovators" who "are attempting to hurry... into a scene of anarchy; their scheme of independence is visionary. . . ." Conservative landed oligarchs such as Landon Carter and Henry Laurens considered the Paine pamphlet as "indecent," "rascally," and "dangerous." But the Tories and conservatives soon found that their attacks on independence were in vain, that "there is a fascination belonging to the word Liberty that beguiles the minds of the vulgar. . . ."“ - Murray Rothbard, ‘Conceived in Liberty, Volume IV: The Revolutionary War, 1775-1784’ (1975) [p. 135 - 140]

[isfjmel-phleg]

How on earth does Ray Terrill, broke teenager working at a fast food restaurant for (probably) minimum wage, own a $3,000 laptop?

(The Ray 1994 #11)

There's an official answer for that. But it just raises further questions.

We know how much the laptop is worth because a burglar breaking into Ray's apartment comments on it. In 1995, $3,000 would be the equivalent of about $6,182.46 today. This is quite a big-ticket item.

(The Ray 1994 #11)

A reader even wrote in asking about where he got the computer, and editor Brian Augustyn theorized that "the computer is something he was given by his dad back when he was still housebound."

The dad in question being, of course, not his biological dad but Thomas Terrill, the uncle who raised him.

It was probably a fairly recent gift. In a flashback to Ray at sixteen, he is seen using a desktop computer, not the laptop. He is in his room here, so this computer is clearly his and not a shared household item like a lot of home computers were in the 1990s. This too would have been quite an expensive item in the early 1990s, costing thousands of dollars.

So it's established that over the years Thomas has bought Ray two computers. That we know of.

(The Ray 1992 #1)

But how on earth Thomas could afford this is not clear. We don't know what he does for a living, or if he even has a job at all--he's in his seventies by the time of his death, so he might have retired at some point. We don't know if Ray's dad is contributing any child support (knowing him...he probably isn't). We don't know what the Terrills are living on. They have a good-sized townhouse in Philadelphia, but there's nothing to suggest that they're any better off financially than the average family.

In fact, after Thomas's death, he owes a lot in legal fees, and the only way that these can be paid is to sell the house. Ray inherits absolutely nothing from Thomas. So it's a safe assumption that there's not a lot of money in that household.

It is possible that Thomas poured his own savings, if he had any, into Ray's upbringing. Which, apparently, included giving him a desktop computer, probably as a distraction/bribe to keep him indoors. Possibly even as a response to Ray's attempt to run away at age thirteen.

The laptop might have been an eighteenth birthday gift, as well as an investment in Ray's future. As Ray tells his cousin, he has enough computer skills to make a living working from home as a programmer. Evidently this was his plan for adulthood before Thomas's death. So the laptop is a sort of alternative to paying for higher education or a trade school or other means of preparing for a career that would be available to someone who wasn't required to stay out of sunlight.

(The Ray 1992 #1)

...and instead of getting an actual computer job, Ray uses the laptop to stalk his childhood best friend...

...and create a video game villain that goes sentient and wreaks havoc on the world...

(The Ray 1994 #3)

...before accepting a systems analyst job from a supervillain. This boy makes The Best Life Decisions.

Alternatively, the laptop and/or desktop computer might have been obtainable because of charity. Ray's alleged fatal allergy to sunlight was highly publicized when he was a child, and it's very possible that one of those foundations that grant wishes to seriously ill children might have taken an interest in his case.

[char1ottee]

New York City Culture🗽

New York City is frequently the setting for novels, movies, and television programs and has been described as the cultural capital of the world. In describing New York, author Tom Wolfe said, "Culture just seems to be in the air, like part of the weather."

The city is the birthplace of many cultural movements, including the Harlem Renaissance in literature and visual art; abstract expressionism (known as the New York School) in painting; and hip-hop, punk, hardcore, salsa, freestyle, Tin Pan Alley, certain forms of jazz, and (along with Philadelphia) disco in music. New York City has been considered the dance capital of the world.

One of the most common traits attributed to New York City is its fast pace, which spawned the term New York minute. Journalist Walt Whitman characterized New York's streets as being traversed by "hurrying, feverish, electric crowds". New York City's residents are prominently known for their resilience historically, and more recently related to their management of the impacts of the September 11 terrorist attacks and the COVID-19 pandemic. New York was voted the world's most resilient city in 2021 and 2022 per Time Out's global poll of urban residents.

Theater🎭

The central hub of the American theater scene is Manhattan, with its divisions of Broadway, off-Broadway, and off-off-Broadway. Many movie and television stars have gotten their big break working in New York productions.

Broadway theatre is one of the premier forms of English-language theatre in the world, named after Broadway, the major thoroughfare that crosses Times Square, sometimes referred to as "The Great White Way".

Forty-one venues mostly in Midtown Manhattan's Theatre District, each with at least 500 seats, are classified as Broadway theatres. The 2018–19 Broadway theatre season set records with total attendance of 14.8 million and gross revenue of $1.83 billion Recovering from closures forced by the COVID-19 pandemic, 2022-23 revenues rebounded to $1.58 billion with total attendance of 12.3 million.

The Tony Awards recognizes excellence in live Broadway theatre and are presented at an annual ceremony in Manhattan. The awards are given for Broadway productions and performances at the 41 eligible Broadway venues. One is also given for regional theatre. Several discretionary non-competitive awards are given as well, including a Special Tony Award, the Tony Honors for Excellence in Theatre, and the Isabelle Stevenson Award.

Architecture

New York has architecturally noteworthy buildings in a wide range of styles and from distinct time periods, from the Dutch Colonial Pieter Claesen Wyckoff House in Brooklyn, the oldest section of which dates to 1656, to the modern One World Trade Center, the skyscraper at Ground Zero in Lower Manhattan and the most expensive office tower in the world by construction cost.

Manhattan's skyline, with its many skyscrapers, is universally recognized, and the city has been home to several of the tallest buildings in the world. As of 2019, New York City had 6,455 high-rise buildings, the third most in the world after Hong Kong and Seoul.

The character of New York's large residential districts is often defined by the elegant brownstone rowhouses and townhouses and shabby tenements that were built during a period of rapid expansion from 1870 to 1930. Stone and brick became the city's building materials of choice after the construction of wood-frame houses was limited in the aftermath of the Great Fire of 1835.

In contrast, New York City also has neighborhoods that are less densely populated and feature free-standing dwellings. In neighborhoods such as Riverdale (in the Bronx), Ditmas Park (in Brooklyn), and Douglaston (in Queens), large single-family homes are common in various architectural styles such as Tudor Revival and Victorian.

Arts🩰

Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, anchoring Lincoln Square on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, is home to numerous influential arts organizations, including the Metropolitan Opera, New York City Opera, New York Philharmonic, and New York City Ballet, as well as the Vivian Beaumont Theater, the Juilliard School, Jazz at Lincoln Center, and Alice Tully Hall. The Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute is in Union Square, and Tisch School of the Arts is based at New York University, while Central Park SummerStage presents free music concerts in Central Park.

New York City has more than 2,000 arts and cultural organizations and more than 500 art galleries. The city government funds the arts with a larger annual budget than the National Endowment for the Arts. The city is also home to hundreds of cultural institutions and historic sites. Museum Mile is the name for a section of Fifth Avenue running from 82nd to 105th streets on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in the upper portion of Carnegie Hill.

Nine museums occupy the length of this section of Fifth Avenue, making it one of the densest displays of culture in the world. Its art museums include the Guggenheim, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Neue Galerie New York, and The Africa Center. In addition to other programming, the museums collaborate for the annual Museum Mile Festival, held each year in June, to promote the museums and increase visitation. Many of the world's most lucrative art auctions are held in New York City.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is the largest art museum in the Americas. In 2022, it welcomed 3.2 million visitors, ranking it the third most visited U.S. museum, and eighth on the list of most-visited art museums in the world. Its permanent collection contains more than two million works, divided among 17 curatorial departments, and includes works of art from classical antiquity and ancient Egypt; paintings and sculptures from nearly all the European masters; and an extensive collection of American and modern art. The Met maintains extensive holdings of African, Asian, Oceanian, Byzantine, and Islamic art.

Fashion🛍️

New York has frequently been ranked the top fashion capital of the world on the annual list compiled by the Global Language Monitor. New York Fashion Week (NYFW) is a high-profile semiannual event featuring models displaying the latest wardrobes created by prominent fashion designers worldwide in advance of these fashions proceeding to the retail marketplace.

NYFW sets the tone for the global fashion industry. New York's fashion district encompasses roughly 30 city blocks in Midtown Manhattan, clustered around a stretch of Seventh Avenue nicknamed Fashion Avenue. New York's fashion calendar also includes Couture Fashion Week to showcase haute couture styles. The Met Gala is often described as "Fashion's biggest night".

Parades

New York City is well known for its street parades, the majority held in Manhattan. The primary orientation of the annual street parades is typically from north to south, marching along major avenues. The annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is the world's largest parade, beginning alongside Central Park and proceeding southward to the flagship Macy's Herald Square store; the parade is viewed on telecasts worldwide and draws millions of spectators in person. Other notable parades including the annual New York City St. Patrick's Day Parade in March, the NYC LGBT Pride March in June, the LGBT-inspired Greenwich Village Halloween Parade in October, and numerous parades commemorating the independence days of many nations. Ticker-tape parades celebrating championships won by sports teams as well as other accomplishments march northward along the Canyon of Heroes on Broadway from Bowling Green to City Hall Park in Lower Manhattan.

[callsign-magnolia]

Lost In Translation // Snake in the Grass

Warning: Angst, cursing

Collaboration w/: @alltimereverie

Bradley Bradshaw as Noah

Bob Floyd as Harrison

Better Than I Imagined | Masterlist

He leaves in four days. Another deployment, another six months of wondering what to do with myself in my free time. I straightened out the navy tea length dress as I knocked on the door. It took a moment before it swung open, revealing Katy’s blonde hair and a large smile gracing her face. “Oh! Liz, we are so glad you could make it! Come in! Come in!” I stepped inside, feeling weird that I didn’t just walk through the door. I went to walk into the living room when Katy slipped past me, holding her arms out. “Ta-da!” 

Oh my god. She changed everything since she moved in. The entertainment center was no longer filled with movies Noah and I loved, and pictures of us and our friends. It had flowers, books and pictures of him and her. The only picture of us still there was in the back and it was from junior year of high school. He had just hit the winning home run for the baseball team and his mom caught a picture of us, mid hug. 

“Had to clean the place up a little, it was very… masculine.” I pursed my lips. It was his house, he was a single guy in the navy so of course it looked like a bachelor pad. I ran my hand along the floral throw blanket that rested on the back of the couch, the same place that his Philadelphia Eagles blanket used to be, the one I bought him. “You like it? I couldn’t bare to look at that ugly green and white blanket anymore.” My heart sunk a little at her words. “I love that blanket, it’s the one we share when we go to games in the winter.” Her nose twitched and I narrowed my eyes at her just slightly. 

“Liz! Thank god! Look I need your help in the kitchen, I’m trying to make mom's creamy tuscan chicken and it’s not coming out right.” I chuckled as he came out of the kitchen, apron on and in a panic. “Alright, you always needed help in the kitchen anyway.” I said before following him. “The consistency isn’t right.” I looked in the pot and saw it was watery. “You just need a little more flour.” He nodded and scooped some out of the bag. “A little at a time. There we go.” He added it little by little until it was perfect. I smiled at him and saw tears in his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He shook his head, leaning back on the island in the kitchen. “It’s just… this is the first deployment that I’ll be gone on the anniversary of mom’s death.” My bottom lip poked out as I saw the tears fall down his face. 

“Oh, Noah.” I pulled him into a hug, one hand resting on the nape of his neck and the other rubbing his back. He sobbed into my shoulder as his arms encircled my waist. “I hate that I won’t be here. I usually sit out there all day and make sure she has fresh flowers-” “I got it.” I said leaning back. “I will make sure she has fresh flowers on her grave and I will sit out there. I haven’t been in a while, it’ll do me some good.” He pulled me back into him and I relished in it, his arms around my waist and his cologne invading my senses. We stayed like that for a moment before we heard someone clear their throat. We looked to see Katy in the doorway, her lips pursed in a thin line and her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I was coming to see if Liz wanted to see how I did our bedroom?” He nodded, wiping his face. “Go, I’ll pour you some wine.” I sighed and nodded, following her upstairs and into their bedroom. His black comforter had been traded out for a gray and white floral, a baby pink blanket laying across the bottom. Her jewelry box had been added to the top of the dresser, as well as another stack of books, all law related. There were plants in a few places around the room. In the corners, on his shelves and even in front of the windows. It was beautiful but not Noah. “Like it?” I nodded. “It’s pretty. Different but pretty.” She nodded, smiling at me. We headed downstairs, and I fell back onto the leather sectional, sinking into it. She sat down, crossing her ankles and giving me a stern look. “It’s not really appropriate to just flop onto someone’s couch.” Noah isn’t just someone. I went to open my mouth and retort when Noah came in. “Babe, what did you do with the riesling in the fridge?” Katy furrowed her brows, turning back to look at him. 

“I took it back to the store and got some cabernet. I don’t drink riesling.” Noah tilted his head back, groaning. “Babe, Liz can’t have red wine. It throws her into a migraine, that’s why I had the riesling. I always keep a bottle on hand for her.” Her eyes widened and she looked at me. “Oh, Liz! I’m so sorry! If I had known I would’ve left it!” Her lip twitched as if she was fighting a grin. “It’s okay Noah, I haven’t had enough water today anyway.” He gave me an apologetic look and nodded before walking back into the kitchen. “Sure you don’t want some red wine? Surely you can fight off a little headache.” I pursed my lips, fighting the urge to snap at her.

“My ‘little headaches’ tend to make me puke and knock me off my feet. So no, I’ll just have water.” I said politely and she giggled. “I’m surprised you wanted water. It looks like you don’t drink it anyway.” My eyebrows shot up and I looked at her. “I’m sorry?” She placed her hand over her heart and feigned surprise. “Oh, I meant no offense. I was just concerned for your health.” I scoffed, looking away from her. “Here you go. Water for my best girl.” Noah said before handing me the glass and kissing my head. “Thanks, Noah.” He smiled at me before he went to walk back into the kitchen, being stopped by Katy who reached up, her arm sneaking around his neck and she pulled him into a kiss. I bit my lip, sipping my water trying to ignore them. He pulled back, chuckling at her. “Later.” He said before walking back into the kitchen.

“Do you love him, Liz?” I furrowed my brows in confusion, looking at her. “Of course, he-” “He’s your best friend, but are you in love with him?” My mouth hung open. I needed to tell her no, but I couldn’t. “Yeah, I figured as much.” She huffed before scooting closer, gently putting her arm around my shoulders. I was so uncomfortable with her that close, I wanted the couch to swallow me into it. “Let me break this to you gently. If he wanted you, he would’ve made you his a long time ago, sweetie.” Tears sprung to my eyes at her words. “You’ve got to let this go. This pining for him is only going to ruin everything.” 

She was right, it was one sided. The unrequited love you hear about in stories, but mine will never be returned. “I can’t have you ruining this, Liz.” I stood, brushing her off me and grabbing my purse. “Okay dinner is-where are you going?” Fuck, I hoped I could rush out without him stopping me. “Home.” I heard a few things clatter on the table and feet rushing. “Woah, hey. What’s this about?” I shook my head as he grabbed my arm, turning me to face him, his other hand gripping my wrist to keep me from turning away. “Nothing I just, there are some important plans that I have to have turned in tomorrow morning that I haven’t finished. If I don’t finish them, I will lose my job.” He furrowed his brows, because he knows good and well I finish everything in the office. I never bring work home. “Liz, come on.” I shook my head and pulled back. “I’ll see you later.” I said before rushing out the door. “What did you say to her?” It was distant, I'm not even sure I heard him right but I just rushed to my car. I got in, once again sobbing as I cranked it and backed out of his driveway, starting the short drive to my house. 

~~~

“What did you say to her?” Noah asked, whipping around to look at Katy. “All I said was that you didn’t love her-” “What the fuck, Katy?!” Her eyes widened in surprise at his words. “So what? Do you love her?” He nodded, tossing his arms out. “Of course! She’s my best friend!” Katy ran her hands through her hair, almost pulling on it in frustration. “Oh my god! She’s in fucking love with you, Noah!” He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Where did you get that from?” She scoffed. “We were sitting here and I asked her.” He quirked a brow at her words. “And what did she say?” 

Katy stilled, realization hitting her. “No-nothing.” He pursed his lips, nodding. “That’s fucking low.” He said before marching upstairs to their now shared bedroom, grabbing his already packed duffle and an extra set of pajamas. “Where are you going?” He grabbed a few last things from the bathroom, shoving them into his bag. “I’m going over to Liz’s.” Katy sputtered over her words, trying to find what to say. “You’re leaving me?” He nodded. “At least for the night.” She followed him down the stairs. “But you leave in four days!” He nodded. “I do. But you decided to sit here and make up some stupid lie out of jealousy. So I’m gonna go and spend my night with Liz. If you want to fix this, you can call me in the morning.” He said before walking out.

~~~

Once I was home I threw my purse to the side and yanked off the combat boots I had on. She was right, he would never return my feelings. I can’t keep going on like this, breaking my own heart. I laid on my couch, sitting with those thoughts. “He’ll never love me like I love him. Who was I kidding?” I asked out loud. After a while of just crying in the dark I fell asleep, dreamlessly hoping that one day he would return my feelings. 

I stood and walked to the door, opening it for him and he engulfed me in a hug. “Oh, thank god. You weren’t answering your phone, I thought something happened to you.” He said and I looked at my phone, 911 still pulled up on my keypad. I looked at my recents and saw sixteen missed calls and nine texts, all with varying levels of concern. “No. No, I’m fine.” I said turning to him. “What are you doing here?” He furrowed his brows. “I’m here for you.” He said coming over and taking my hands. “I’m so sorry for what Katy said. She never should’ve said those things to you.” My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. “Wha-really?” My mouth went dry at his words. I had to be dreaming, there’s no other way this could be happening. 

I awoke with a start when I heard banging on my front door. I looked to the door, questioning if I heard it right. My heart pounded and I rolled into the floor, army crawling to where I threw my purse and digging my phone out of it. I heard it again and I quickly dialed 911. “Lizzy, please. I’m sorry about what she said.” I calmed when I heard Noah’s voice on the other side, letting me know it wasn’t someone here to hurt me.

But his thumbs rubbing over my knuckles told me otherwise. “Of course, Liz. I love you, you’re my best friend. I never expected another girl to understand our relationship but Katy said she’s willing to learn.” He said before pulling me into a hug. No, fuck! He came here to tell me how much I mean to him as a best friend. Tears slipped down my cheeks and onto his shoulder as he held me. “I hate to do this, but Katy and I got into it.” He said before holding up his bag. “Mind if I crash in the guest room?” I thought for a moment. He ships out in four days, I should kick him out and tell him to go back to his house and make her leave. But I wanted to be selfish, I want him to myself at least for tonight before he ships out for six months. “Yeah, of course.” I said, wiping my eyes. “She really hurt you, didn’t she?” I pursed my lips and nodded. It was the truth. “I’ll have a talk with her. You’re too important to me to lose you.” He said, kissing my forehead like always. “Let me get set up in the guest room and then I will order your favorite from the chinese place.” I smiled at him before he walked away. One night, I can be selfish for one night. What harm could it do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dhwanishah09 @wkndwlff

[lboogie1906]

Nannie Helen Burroughs (May 2, 1879 - May 20, 1961) was born in Orange, Virginia to John and Jennie Burroughs. She attended school in DC and moved to Kentucky where she attended Eckstein-Norton University and received an honorary MA.

She sought a teaching position in DC, but she did not receive it, she moved to Philadelphia and became associate editor of The Christian Banner, a Baptist newspaper. She returned to DC where, despite receiving a high rating on the civil service exam, she was refused a position in the public school system. She took a series of temporary jobs including office building janitor and bookkeeper for a small manufacturing firm, hoping to become a teacher in DC. She accepted a position in Louisville as secretary of the Foreign Mission Board of the National Baptist Convention.

She began planning the National Trade and Professional School for Women and Girls in DC. The school opened in 1909 with her as its first president. She adopted the motto “We specialize in the wholly impossible” for the school, which taught courses at the high school and junior college levels. She led her small faculty in training students through a curriculum that emphasized both vocational and professional skills. Her students were to become self-sufficient wage earners and “expert homemakers.”

She believed that industrial and classical education were compatible. She became an early advocate of African American history, requiring each of her students to pass that course before graduation. She was a demanding principal.

She never married. She devoted her life to the National Trade and Professional School for Women and Girls and remained its principal until her death. Three years later the institution she founded was renamed the Nannie Burroughs School. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #deltasigmatheta